


Swings, Skewers and Scars

by lod



Series: Pegoryu Week 2018 [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: First Dates, Love, M/M, PegoRyu week, Scars, Yakitori, akiryu, pegoryu, swings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lod/pseuds/lod
Summary: For their first date, Ryuji opens the door on his past to Akira.





	Swings, Skewers and Scars

Akira and Ryuji had been on dozens of dates before. Sure, they’d never called it dating back then, but they’d been grabbing dinner and a movie for months by this point, and all that had really changed was that now sometimes they missed half the movie’s plot from making out. So Akira was confused when Ryuji called him one Monday after school, actually called him rather than sending a text, and very formally asked if he was free that Friday night.

He spent the whole week growing increasingly curious as Ryuji deflected his questions, artfully changing the topic or interrupting him with kisses. He couldn’t really complain about that sort of distraction, but by the time Friday morning rolled around he was jittery with anticipation. School passed at a painfully slow pace, the last bell finally setting Akira free. He wandered around Shibuya aimlessly for an hour or two; Ryuji’d said he would pick him up at the cafe at 7, which was a bit too early to spend the afternoon with someone else.

When he realised he’d been browsing through the racks at Scarlet for at least 10 minutes, he decided to head back to Yongen-jaya and go to the bathhouse. The hot water would relax him, and if nothing else at least he’d be clean. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous; he was just going to see Ryuji, the one person he felt most at ease with, after all.

* * *

 

Akira got home after an hour soaking in the excessively hot water feeling like a brand new man. He blow-dried his hair in the attic, sitting on his bed in his boxers, and then because there was still a good hour left to wait, occupied himself with his current obsession, a stupid paint-by-numbers thing he and Ryuji had bought as a gag gift for Yusuke and never actually dared to give him. It represented some sickly sweet image, a ginger tabby in a basket surrounded by roses, and they’d spent a good 15 minutes laughing at the mental image of Yusuke’s disgust while the salesperson shot increasingly dark looks in their direction. It had sat in a bag on the back of Akira’s shelf all summer until he took it out one sleepless night when he’d already rewatched X Folders 3 times, figuring it had to be better than another round of Power Intuition. Three hours later, he’d filled in all the spots for colors number 1 through 4, and he was irremediably hooked.

At last, the alarm clock he’d set for 6:30 rang, and he went downstairs to clean his paintbrush before getting dressed. Coming back up, he hesitated in front of his makeshift dresser for a bit, then on a whim, decided to go for the suit. His parents had packed it for him, but he hadn’t had any reason to wear it since he’d gotten to Tokyo. It wasn’t really that different from what he usually wore; dress pants instead of his dark jeans, a regular suit jacket over his usual button up white shirt rather than the Shujin one, but somehow the overall effect was more…  _ polished _ .

A few minutes later, sitting on the couch in the somewhat uncomfortable outfit, he had second thoughts. He was definitely going to be overdressed for whatever Ryuji had planned. Fancy just wasn’t his boyfriend’s style. Cringing, he realised Ryuji might just have been wanting to go on an evening run; they often met at Leblanc’s when they did that, Yongen-Jaya being better suited to running than Shibuya.

Akira was getting up to change when the bell tinkled faintly from downstairs, and Sojiro called up, “Your friend’s here!”

Welp. Too late now. Akira headed downstairs, his heart racing. The image of a debutante descending the staircase at her first ball popped into his mind, and he smiled at the stairs before him, amused. As he stepped into the cafe’s light, he lifted his head, and his smile faded into stupefaction as he took in Ryuji, standing by the door. He was wearing a suit as well, and whereas the look was a slight improvement Akira, on Ryuji it was like looking at a completely different person. Akira loved Ryuji’s colorful, crazy sense of style, his silly shirts and his spiked bracelet, but seeing him like this stole the breath from his throat. The suit fit well, too well for him to have bought it alone; Ann or Makoto must have been in on it. It nipped in at the waist, just enough to highlight his athletic figure, and the sleeves didn’t bunch over his biceps like his school uniform always did.

Akira somehow made it down the rest of the stairs and across the cafe, Sojiro’s bemused look going unnoticed as Ryuji eclipsed everything in his sight.

“Hey. You look good,” he managed to get out.

Ryuji picked his hand up and drew it to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. Akira flushed and was beginning to wonder if this was some bizarre case of body snatching when he caught the slightest hint of a smirk on Ryuji’s face. Rolling his eyes, he drew the blond into a hug.

“You know you didn’t actually tell me to wear a suit, right?” Akira said.

“Good thing we’re so in sync then, isn’t it,” Ryuji replied as he pulled away. He caught Akira’s hand in his own, and turned towards Sojiro. “I’ll be sure to have him home before midnight,” he told the cafe owner, his wink obvious this time.

They stepped into the early evening, and Ryuji guided Akira up the alley. “That’s not the way to the subway,” Akira mentioned.

Ryuji knocked into his shoulder playfully. “You don’t say. Look, I have the whole night kinda planned out, so you just… let me take the reins on this one, ok? You’re always the one guiding us, having to figure out everything in Palaces, in Mementos. Well, this time, all you have to do is follow along and enjoy!”

Akira smiled and nodded, letting Ryuji drag him along.

When they reached the street, Ryuji walked up to a sleek black taxi and opened the door, waving Akira in with a flourish.

“A taxi?” he asked incredulously, but Ryuji shook his head.

“No questions, you just follow, remember?”

Akira nodded again and slid into the seat. Ryuji closed the door and came around to sit on the other side, the taxi pulling away smoothly without a word as he closed his door. They rode through the darkened streets in comfortable silence, holding hands across the middle seat, Akira rubbing the calluses on Ryuji’s palm. After a short time, the car drew up to the curb, and before Akira could undo his seat belt, Ryuji had made his way over to his side, opening the door for him again. He stepped out, looking up into Ryuji’s eyes.

Ryuji shut the door and leaned down to pay the driver, and the car pulled away, leaving them on a dimly lit street in a residential neighborhood. Akira had no idea where they were; he usually traveled around Tokyo with the subway, and although he knew his hangout spots like the back of his hand by now, they were islands of familiarity amidst the uncharted territory that made up the rest of the city.

Across the street was a tall fence surrounding a small park, the gate locked for the night. Ryuji led them towards it, then pulled himself up to the top of the fence. He reached a hand down for Akira, who ignored it and jumped gracefully up next to him, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. It was no harder than jumping onto a Shadow in the Metaverse, and now that he’d been working out with Ryuji for the good half of a year the strength differential in the real world wasn’t much of a problem. That didn’t explain why they were standing on top of a fence in suits, though.

“Are we doing suit-up parkour?” Akira asked, and Ryuji huffed at him as he hopped off the fence and into the park. Akira followed him down, and Ryuji led them by the light of the half-moon to a pair of swings next to a small jungle gym. They sat on the swings, Akira beginning to push himself while Ryuji rolled his pant leg up to the knee, revealing a faint scar on his upper calf. Akira got off his swing and came to look more closely.

“This is where I got this scar. I must have been about 5, trying to show off for the neighbors’ kid. Jumped off the swing at the top and landed flat on my face.” Ryuji tilted his neck up, pointing to another short scar underneath his chin. “Almost had to get stitches for that one.” Akira ran his fingers over the imperceptible scar. “Kinda been afraid of swings ever since, to be honest,” Ryuji said.

Akira went to stand behind Ryuji. “Never too late to get back on the horse,” he said as he gave Ryuji a very light push.

Ryuji squeaked, and Akira caught the swing as it returned, wrapping the chains and the boy on it up in a bear hug. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I hate that it scares me,” Ryuji said, sounding somewhat angy. “It’s ridiculous, a 17 year old who can’t even swing!”

Akira got an idea, and stepped around to stand in front of Ryuji, just past where his feet would kick out if he swung up a bit. “You trust me, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“So, you know I’m strong enough and fast enough to catch you. I’ll be your safety net. Would that help?”

Ryuji looked at him for a long moment, then gritted his teeth and pushed himself forward the barest fraction of an inch, terror painting his features. Akira stepped closer protectively, then back little by little as Ryuji went higher, the fear in his expression progressively replaced by calm and, finally, by pure enjoyment.

“I can’t believe it took me 12 years to get back on one of these. This is fun!”

Akira let him swing for a few minutes, then called out to him. “Now jump!”

“Hell no!”

Akira stretched his arms out. “Like I said, I can catch you. Don’t overthink, just  _ do it _ ,” he insisted, the last words spoken insistently right as Ryuji reached the top of his forward swing, and Akira knew it was a testimony to the trust they shared that he bit his lip and pushed off the swing without any further hesitation.

Swings made for children didn’t reach too high, so Akira barely staggered as he caught Ryuji before softly dropping him back to the ground. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

Ryuji was still breathing a bit fast, and he broke out into a grin and pushed Akira away jokingly. “Where were you when I was five?!”

They caught their breath, then headed back the way they’d come over the fence. Ryuji led them a ways down the sidewalk before turning a corner onto a street where two schools faced each other. Ryuji walked up to the entrance of the one on the left, saying, “This is where I went to primary school.” He pointed to a missing bit of tile in the wall by the gate. “I’m pretty sure I still have that one in a drawer at home."

Akira faked a gasp. “You  _ thief! _ ”

“So that was your middle school then?” he asked, turning towards the opposite side of the street.

“Nah. Believe it or not, I was actually pretty good in primary school, so I managed to get into one of the selective middle schools a bit further away. That’s where I met Ann, actually. Maybe I’ll take you to see it sometime, it’s a pretty building.”

They started walking away when Akira stopped abruptly.

“You ok?” Ryuji asked.

“I’m fine, I just… realized you had black hair when you went to school here.”

Ryuji stared at him. “Uh, yeah. I dye my hair. This is not new information, you’ve seen my roots a buncha times!”

“No I  _ know, _ but I was picturing little Ryuji walking down this street with his big backpack on and his cute big brown eyes and his spiky blond hair...and then I realised there was something wrong with the picture!”

Ryuji winced. “I had black hair, and a horrible bowl cut. We don’t talk about it. Ann really was a good influence on me in multiple ways, I gotta tell ya.”

Akira let the subject drop, but filed the information away for later. He  _ had _ to see that bowl cut now; there was no way Ryuji’s mom didn’t have at least one childhood picture…

Ryuji continued leading Akira through the darkened neighborhood until they reached what must have been the local shopping street, most shops closed by now but a few restaurants and a grocery store lighting up the night. Ryuji stopped in front of a bookstore, still brightly lit despite the late hour.

“They’re open this late?”

“Yeah, until 9. That’s why I always come here,” Ryuji said as he walked in, the bell on the door tinkling. Akira followed him, stepping into a tiny shop that seemed to be made entirely of manga, from the bookshelves lining the wall clear to the ceiling, to the stacks teetering by the register. Akira wandered around, Ryuji following him. “They have  _ everything _ in here,” he said. 

Ryuji grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards the register. “It’s awesome, isn’t it? We can’t spend too long here, though, the next place closes pretty soon.” He turned to the cashier, a friendly-looking middle aged man who greeted him by name.

“Hello, Ryuji. Here to pick up your order?”

“Yeah, thanks!”

The man reached under the desk, pulling out a paper bag with 4 or 5 novels in it. As he rang Ryuji up, he asked, “Who’s this young man, then?”

“Umm… that’s Akira.” Ryuji said as he paid, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Ah!  _ The _ Akira,” the man said with a knowing look, handing Ryuji back his change. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he added towards Akira.

Akira was about to ask what sort of things he’d heard, but Ryuji grabbed his bag in a hurry and all but dragged him out the door.

* * *

 

Their next destination was the tiniest yakitori shop Akira had ever seen, wedged in between a sushi restaurant and a closed shoe store. Inside, a bar ran down the middle of the hallway-like room, the cooking area squeezed behind it and a few people sitting at stools on the other side eating. Towards the back, another handful of customers waited for their orders. When they walked in, the rotund old lady manning the grill raised her head.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Ryuji!” she called out good-naturedly.

“Sorry, Harada-san,” he replied. “I’ve been busy with school.”

“You’re coming with your mom next month as usual, right?”

“Of course!”

Ryuji and Akira walked down to the register to place their order. Once they were done, they leaned against the wall; there were at least five people to go before them.

“So, you eat here often?” Akira asked.

“Mhmm. Well, less now that I’m always in Shibuya or at your place, but I used to come here at least once a week. Best yakitori in Tokyo, you’ll see. And it’s super cheap too!”

A shadow passed over Ryuji’s face, and he continued. “We ate lunch here the day after my dad left. Mom said it was to celebrate our freedom. It wasn’t always easy, after that. Mom had to get a second job, and people started saying things about her. Stupid shit, but I was a kid and sometimes I wondered if they were right, if she had been wrong letting my dad leave, not convincing him to stay. But every time we came back here, I could remember how excited we were that first day, and it really helped. We still come around every year, on the anniversary of that first time. It’s kind of a tradition.”

It was the most Akira’d ever heard Ryuji say about his father. All he’d gotten until now were some vague hints of an abusive, alcoholic man, who’d walked out at some point. “Thanks for telling me,” Akira said, acknowledging the moment, and Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck.

“Eh, I want you to know more about me, right? There’s some other stuff too but… later. Wanna grab a seat while we wait?”

Akira nodded, and they went to sit on the two empty stools by the entrance, where the woman was still busy turning over skewers. They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Ryuji jumped up. “Hey, Harada-san, can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, Ryuji. You know where it is.”

“I’ll be right back,” Ryuji told Akira, then walked to the back of the store and disappeared behind the “employees only” door.

When he’d gone, Harada turned to Akira. “You’re the boyfriend, right?” Akira blushed a bit at the bluntness of her words, but nodded. “You treat Ryuji well, you hear? He’s a good boy.” She wasn’t threatening, but there was the mildest hint of an edge in her words, like she  _ could _ be if she needed to. Akira was a bit amused at the idea of that old woman attacking him, but he didn’t show it.

“Used to come in here a lot with his mom, after that no-good dad of his left for good. One day, we got robbed overnight. Someone broke our window, stole what little we had in the register, smashed a couple of stools. Ryuji and his mom came by that evening, and we told them what had happened. A couple days later, he came back and…he hasn’t told you this story?” 

Akira shook his head.

“I still have the exact image in my mind. We had some plywood up over the broken glass in the door, and he stood there in front of it, this little kid with his too-short pants and his stained shirt, because his mom couldn’t afford anything new, holding a handful of aluminium coins out to me. The kicker is, he was crying when he came in. Not because he was sad about breaking his piggy bank for us, but because he knew it wouldn’t be enough to fix the door.” She interrupted herself to give the skewers another flip and put some in takeaway boxes while Akira digested what she’d just told him.

“He’s one in a lifetime, that boy. Cares so much about everybody. You should get him to tell you about the manga shop sometime.” Akira raised an eyebrow, but Ryuji was making his way back from the bathroom by then. Harada handed them their order over the bar, and they walked out of the store, Akira still thinking about the story she’d told him.

“What were you talking about with Harada-san? Seemed friendly,” Ryuji asked.

“Nothing much. Just the neighborhood, the weather. You know. So, where to next?”

“Home, we gotta eat before it gets cold!”

* * *

 

Home turned out to be only a few minutes away. Akira recognized the building as they reached it; he’d been to Ryuji’s place a few times since his mom had finally allowed Ryuji to bring him over, but it wasn’t quite enough for him to know the area very well yet.

They walked into the apartment, Akira going to drop the bookstore bag in the bedroom while Ryuji headed to the kitchen with the yakitori. When Akira joined him, Ryuji was sitting at the kitchen table, seeming lost in thought.

“What’s up?” he asked as he took a seat next to him.

“Just thinking, tonight’s about me opening up to you, right? So, um, you should know. I lied to you. I told you my mom didn’t want me to have friends over, but she doesn’t actually mind at all. I was the one who was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Akira asked gently.

“Well… Other than you, the last person who’s been here was Ann, back in middle school. We were really good friends back then; or I guess, she was my very good friend. I know Shiho was a much more important person in her life than I was, but I didn’t really have anyone else. She’d come over and play video games with me, and she didn’t care that I only had my mom at home and that my jeans were too short. But then people started making jokes about it at school. Saying we were dating, stuff like that. I didn’t care at first, but then they turned mean, saying how she’d picked a real loser, with a single mom and a deadbeat dad, and maybe she wasn’t much better. I was used to it by then but I couldn’t stand hearing them say that kinda shit about her. I didn’t know how to stop them, so I stopped hanging out with her as often. She was getting really pretty by then, starting to look like the Ann we know now, so it’s not like she had a shortage of people trying to spend time with her, but she kept asking if I was free. I was the one who kept turning her down. I wasn’t alone after that, that was around when I started running, but it wasn’t the same. I was good enough that the other guys on the team admired my skill on the track, and we’d even get ramen together after practice sometimes, but they weren’t the kind of friends you bring home. Not the kind of friends who stand up for you when people are talking behind your back, either.”

Ryuji took a breath, hefting a skewer of meat in one hand, then put it back down and continued talking. “And then there was Kamoshida, and I lost even that much. So when you became my friend part of me didn’t really believe it. We’re better versions of ourselves in the Metaverse, and it felt like if I brought you back here you’d find out who I really was. Just some useless kid with a shitty dad and an overworked mom and an unhealthy habit of running away from his life into books. And then you wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“Of course I would,” Akira interjected.

“I know. I know that now. I guess it took you standing by my side through the whole thing with the track team for me to really realise you weren’t going anywhere.” Ryuji gave a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Akira echoed as Ryuji popped a piece of meat into his mouth and grimaced.

“Ugh, they’re totally cold now. You shoulda told me to shut up,” he told Akira.

Akira ignored the second part of his sentence and stood to put the two boxes into the microwave. Meanwhile, Ryuji took the box left in the bag and put it into the fridge, then scrawled “Dinner’s inside!” on a post-it note he stuck to the fridge. They ate, Akira expressing the correct amount of awe over the yakitori — it really was as good as Ryuji’d said — and when they were done and had done the dishes, they headed to Ryuji’s bedroom. 

They stepped into the bedroom and Ryuji immediately began unbuttoning his shirt. Akira blushed at the implication of what he was doing so nonchalantly, and stammered out some confused question, at which Ryuji looked up at him and froze. 

“No! Wow, ok, no. It’s not what it looks like.”

Akira ran a hand through his hair as he chuckled in a mixture of relief and …  _ regret _ ? “I mean, maybe warn a guy first, yeah.”

Shrugging out of his shirt, Ryuji turned around. “This was the last thing I wanted to show you.”

“Your butt?”

Ryuji snorted and reached a hand back to swat at Akira. “Be serious two seconds. I kinda wasn’t sure about showing you this one. It’s not a really happy story, but it is a big part of who I am.” He traced a hand down the lower left part of his back. “Should be around here somewhere; I can’t really see it without a mirror.” Akira looked where he was pointing, and indeed, there was a faint, jagged rip, about as long as his palm.

Ryuji turned back around. “This is where my dad hit me with the buckle end of a belt.”

Akira gasped, reaching out a hand to grab Ryuji’s, then stopping a heartbeat away from him, unsure what to do. He was so angry suddenly, at this person who’d had someone so precious in their hands and hurt him like that, but even more than angry he was sad, sad that there was nothing he could do to take away that memory, sad that Ryuji had this inside of him when he was the last person who’d ever, ever deserve it.

Ryuji closed the gap between their hands and squeezed. “Don’t worry. It’s not that bad of a memory, weirdly enough. That day, after Mom bandaged me up and put me to bed, she and my dad yelled at each other in the living room for a long time. I was so afraid he was going to hurt her. It wouldn’t have been the first time. But Mom’d told me to stay in my room no matter what happened, and I wanted to obey her. Then it got really quiet, and she still won’t tell me what happened, but that was the last time I ever heard my dad slam the door shut behind him. I mean, I’m not gonna say I liked getting hurt. But if that was the cost of our freedom, well, it was worth it.”

Akira let go of Ryuji’s hand and kneeled down to press a kiss against the scar, rising back to look at him with tears in his eyes.

“Oh Aki, no, come on. None of that. It’s ok, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Not here,” he said, gesturing towards his back, “and not here, either,” tapping his head. “Promise. Let’s go read, ok?”

Ryuji took the first book out of the shopping bag, and they sat down against the edge of the bed, Akira fitting easily between Ryuji’s legs. He slid down until his head could slot comfortably under Ryuji’s, then looked at the book. “Hey! I’ve been meaning to read that one.”

Ryuji pressed a kiss to the top of Akira’s head with a chuckle. “I know.”

* * *

 

When they’d finished, Akira turned around in Ryuji’s arms, crossing his legs to sit facing him.

“Tell me the story about the manga place.”

“What?” Ryuji said, taken aback.

“The woman at the skewer place told me. Harada-san?”

“Damn it. Can’t trust that lady to keep her mouth shut, I swear.”

Akira looked at Ryuji insistently, and he dropped his head back against the mattress. “It’s no big deal. I came in to the store one time and found the owner lying face down on the floor next to a toppled stack of books.”

“The person I met?”

“Nah, that’s her son. Anyway, she wasn’t breathing and her heart wasn’t beating. I called an ambulance, and we’d just done first aid training in school the week before so I used the store’s defibrillator on her. The instructor had spent the whole week telling us that was the most important thing you could do for someone whose heart’s stopped, and it stuck with me. We got really lucky I guess, cause her heart started beating again.”

“Was she ok?” Akira asked, concerned.

“Yeah.  Doesn’t work in the store anymore, but she pretty much made a full recovery. The paramedics said the quick defibrillation probably played a big role in that; apparently, I found her minutes after she’d fallen.”

“You saved her life, ‘yuji,” Akira said admiringly.

“Well, sure, but anyone would have done it!”

“No. I mean, calling the ambulance, yeah. But thinking of the defibrillator, and not being too scared to use it… People tend to freeze up in emergency situations.  _ You saved her life _ .”

Akira ignored Ryuji’s protestations and rested his forehead against the blond’s, letting his eyes drift shut. After a few seconds, he spoke. “You could have become so bitter, growing up the way you did. You could have wanted to take it out on everyone else. God knows you’ve had enough excuses,” he muttered the last bit, his hand pressing against Ryuji’s back over the scar protectively, “ and instead you’re still the brightest damn ray of sunshine. You’re kind to everybody, and selfless to a fault, and  _ good _ , really good like few people are. Even with Kamoshida, it wasn’t about getting him back for your leg, was it? It was for Ann, and Shiho, and the rest of the track team.” Akira opened his eyes, looking down at Ryuji, and felt a wave of emotions roll over him, submerging him from head to toe. For a moment it was strange and foreign, then a heartbeat later the words came to him and he couldn’t stop them from bursting right out, unplanned and unexpected and absolutely right.

“I love you.”

Ryuji jerked slightly in surprise, and Akira wrapped his arms around him, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips before repeating himself around a huge smile. “I love you, ‘yuji. So damn much.”

Ryuji smiled tentatively back. “...I love you too.”

They sat for a minute like that, grinning like idiots at each other, before a thought drifted through Akira’s mind.

“Why did we wear suits tonight, anyway?”

“I have no idea why  _ you _ did,” Ryuji replied. “I wore one because… it’s our first date, and I wanted to make an effort. Show you how important this was to me?”

Akira couldn’t find the words to reply to that, so he settled for hoisting Ryuji up onto the bed and straddling him, kissing his boyfriend like the world was ending. Ryuji replied by hooking one hand behind Akira’s neck and pulling him closer, while he ran the other up his side in feather-light touches that left Akira shivering. Maybe he wouldn’t be getting home by midnight after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Pegoryu Week 2018, day 2: First Date.  
> This is post-"Revelations".
> 
> They love each other and I love them ;)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr! https://thermopylod.tumblr.com/


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